


The One With The Moose

by WhoreOfPromethea



Series: A Clone And An Irwin Walk Into A Bar [2]
Category: Newsflesh Trilogy - Mira Grant
Genre: F/M, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Post canon, a little plot, one entire zombie moose, shaun rambles but the moose is exposition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 12:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15774330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoreOfPromethea/pseuds/WhoreOfPromethea
Summary: What it says on the tin. Shaun wants to wrestle a zombie moose. Georgia watches. Shaun reflects.





	The One With The Moose

I have always enjoyed poking zombies with sticks and seeing what happens. This is not news. What IS news is that I’ve gotten a lot more creative since the discovery that I’m immune to Kellis-Amberlee. 

The spectrum of zombies I could suddenly poke without risk of amplification had suddenly broadened, and there was absolutely no way I was going to live in Canada - Canada! - without poking a zombie moose with a stick and seeing what happened. 

“You know you’re not immune to death, Shaun.” George was staring at me peevishly from the safety of the reinforced truck, assault rifle clenched firmly in her hands. I would ride the bike home to avoid risking infecting her; she was simply here as backup. That, and possible morbid curiosity. Okay, definite morbid curiosity. 

I frowned at the clone of my sister.

“I know that. That’s why I’m wearing all this crap.” There was no real rancor in my tone, and I really was decked out in more protective shit than was necessary. Still, she was right. I wanted to provoke then kill a zombie moose, not end up gored to death by one. 

George pulled a face at me, expression clearly visible without the sunglasses she no longer needed to wear. 

Satisfied with our exchange, I turned my attention back to our rather large friend. It wasn’t the biggest, but it was still bigger than the bear, which meant it was big enough. Thankfully, the moose had the disadvantages of having the combined intelligence of a zombie and a moose - that was to say, it was about as dumb as a pile of bricks, which meant I could have a lot of fucking fun before I ended up having to shoot it so it wouldn’t follow us home or something. 

The rock in my slingshot hit it square in the face. Human zombies make chilling noises. Zombie animals, well, it really depends on what you’re dealing with. 

The moose turned its attention from the dead whatever it was eating - it looked like another, smaller moose - to me, and made a sound that probably would have been funny if it wasn’t in such close proximity. I laughed anyway. It would get the site good traffic. Idiot Irwin performs another dancing monkey trick from fuck-knows-where, Canada. Please send peanuts. 

I heard the reassuring sound of George clicking off the safety on her weapon.  
She wouldn’t shoot unless she had to, and even then, she wouldn’t unless it was dire. She knew I hadn’t been kidding when I’d said I wanted to wrestle a zombie moose.

Speaking of. It was clearly provoked enough to allow such a tussle; this was why I hadn’t chosen a larger moose. I didn’t want to be stupendously outnumbered, but it was big enough to look impressive, which sounded more and more like a dick joke the longer I thought about it.

“Hey George, check this out!” I hollered over the annoyed almost growls of the moose as I grappled with it; I had it by the antlers, keeping its mouth distinctly out of reach. It was close enough to look dangerous, and if I was still a newly minted Irwin, I probably would have been shitting myself. Even so, I was freaking out a bit. 

I let the game continue for a bit longer, cracking jokes the whole time, before eventually making it look like it took a lot more effort than it did (which, okay, it wasn’t the easiest) to reach for my gun and shoot the thing between the eyes.

I very nearly ended up with a suddenly very dead moose collapsing on top of me, but thankfully managed to roll out the way in time. 

I could definitely see a rating spike for that one. Not that it mattered anymore. Not that anything mattered, really, except for the girl sitting in the drivers seat of the truck, knees drawn up to her chest, brown eyes watching me dolefully as I wiped zombie moose drool out of my hair. 

I didn’t care at all about the ratings, only bothering at all because I knew it would help out our friends back home. Okay, and maybe I couldn’t resist showing off now and again, especially when George was around. 

“I hope you’re going to take a full decon when we get home.” She wrinkled her nose at me as I passed her on my way to the bike - I wasn’t going to risk infecting her, even if it meant riding in seperate vehicles when I pulled dumb Irwin stunts like this. 

“What do I get if I do?” I asked with a grin; it wasn’t the height of comedy- what I’d get would be another day with George beyond this one. Another zombie free day, that is. 

She pretended to consider. “A kiss.”

“Just one?” I acted wounded, maybe a little shocked. There was never just one kiss.

“You can have more if you wash your hair.” She said primly; she’d let her hair grow a little longer, let the bleach streaks stay. It was easier to stay inconspicuous that way. She looked so much younger, more vulnerable that way. I didn’t want to admit I liked it, just as much as I’d liked tough as nails George in sunglasses and all black. 

“Deal.” I said, a little too fast as I let the bike roar to life.

“I’ll see you at home.” She rolled her eyes at me, no real irritation behind the gesture. 

I’d wrestle a thousand zombie moose for days like this, where we fuck around with zombies and poke fun at each other. Days like this remind me what I live for. What she lives for. I’d do anything to keep her with me.


End file.
